<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Case No. 405 by TricksterShi</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27142117">Case No. 405</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TricksterShi/pseuds/TricksterShi'>TricksterShi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Home Across the Universe [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Fluff and Angst, Gen, POV Sheriff Stilinski, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Sheriff Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stilinski Family Feels, Vigilantism, Werewolves, Witches</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:16:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,084</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27142117</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TricksterShi/pseuds/TricksterShi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The flip side of The Teenage Vigilante Witch of Beacon Hills.  </p>
<p>Deputy John Stilinski has a hell of a puzzle on his hands with a missing, severely abused kid who might be a witch disappearing on his watch.  Then a vigilante known as the Shadow starts hunting down the criminals of Beacon Hills' underbelly.  John is determined to get to the bottom of both cases if it's the last thing he does.</p>
<p>In the end, he may have bitten off more than he can chew, but he's a Stilinski.  They don't know how to quit or lose.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Melissa McCall &amp; Sheriff Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski &amp; Original Hale Character(s), Sheriff Stilinski &amp; Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Home Across the Universe [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978774</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>175</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Case No. 405</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warning for descriptions of blood, violence, and an overabundance of FEELS.  Y'all, I just love Sheriff Stilinski.  He's the literal best and writing him is such a joy.  Anyway, this is unbetaed so any mistakes are mine and canon is more of a guideline than an actual rule.  *insert creepy smiling Barbossa gif here*</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"He has to be a witch of some kind.  That's the only explanation that fits," Hale said as he shuffled through the photos spread across the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had been over the security footage from the hospital frame by frame so many times their eyes ached.  John had to admit it was the best theory so far.  The kid had been in and out of supposedly secure areas without getting caught.  Hell, hospital staff had looked right at him more than once and just went about their business.  Upon questioning, most never remembered seeing him, even when confronted with the footage.  It was like their eyes had slid off him without registering details.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kid also knew his way around the hospital and not casually.  More like he'd spent quite a bit of time there, enough to know the layout like the back of his hand.  Yet the hospital had no record of him at all as a former patient.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John sipped on his coffee and tapped his pen on the table.  "Any word back from the coven?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hale shook his head.  "Mom is going to meet with the elders in a few hours, see if they know anything, but she said not to hold our breath.  Witches protect their own even if they aren't coven members.  It's a deep holdover from the burning days, I guess.  They don't offer up anything unless the witch is a problem to the community."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"He's just a kid, Hale."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John glanced at the headshot taken just after the kid, Jimmy, had been sedated.  His eyes were unfocused, expression lost.  He couldn't be more than sixteen or seventeen.  The other pictures, close-ups of the various wounds, scars, and tattoos, told a devastating story of abuse and survival.  It was the worst John had ever seen in his career.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"They may be taking care of him, then," Hale shrugged.  "Or, they may not even know he's here yet."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John sifted through the pictures and pulled one of the tattoos.  Runes and sigils, which John hadn't even known the difference between until the year before, scrawled over the kid's back, shoulders, and around his hips.  The ink wasn't fresh.  Given the rest of his skin, John had to wonder if the tattoos were his choice or not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John took the headshot and tacked it up on the board.  He attached a sticky note above it and scrawled</span>
  <em>
    <span> "Jimmy" ?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beacon Hills didn't get many missing children cases but they always hit home for him.  They would for any parent.  But something about this one tugged at his gut.  This kid wasn't lost hiking in the preserve or a normal troubled runaway.  He had definitely run away from</span>
  <em>
    <span> something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, though.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John glanced down at the bruises on his own arm.  Purple fingerprints dotted his pale skin.  The kid had latched on while they had waited for the ambulance to arrive.  He'd been panicking too hard to realize it, lost in a flashback.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Where did you go,</span>
  </em>
  <span> John thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The phone rang and Hale answered.  A few minutes later he hung up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hey, there were three reported break-ins in the immediate area around the hospital after Jimmy walked out.  One person reported seeing a kid that matched his description."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What was taken?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Clothing approximately about his size.  A pair of shoes.  First aid supplies, blankets, food.  A little over seventy dollars in cash."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just what he needed to survive.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Nothing else of value?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, just the cash.  Any jewelry or electronics were untouched.  One house even had a couple of Rolexes laying out but they weren't taken."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Did they lift any prints?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, they're bringing them back now."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> John wasn't surprised when they matched.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John met with Talia Hale the next day.  It was always a bit disconcerting to be in the room with a werewolf.  Just the knowledge that she wasn't fully human was uncomfortable.  She was fine as a person, strong-minded, strong-willed, and reminded him a lot of Claudia, but there was a distinct otherness in the way she regarded him.  Not like he was prey but like he was an otherness to her as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What do you mean they refused?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John's voice echoed off the walls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Talia gave him an impassive look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It means they will remain neutral, Deputy.  The coven elders keep tabs on any witch they know about who lives within the county.  They agreed to look out for him but he will have automatic sanctuary whether or not he declares himself.  As long as he doesn't make trouble for the coven they see no reason to reveal his identity or location."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John scoffed, incredulous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"He's a</span>
  <em>
    <span> minor</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  A minor who has been tortured by the looks of it.  Are they just going to let him live under a bridge unless he starts turning people into frogs?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Talia pursed her lips, the first sign John had seen that she, too, was irritated by the response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Believe me, Deputy, if this child was a werewolf I would have my pack scent him out and bring him in so he could be protected and cared for.  But I can't risk breaching my agreement with the coven.  We've upheld the peace together for far too long."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John scrubbed a hand over his face.  Things had been so much simpler when the only law of the land he had to work with didn't cover supernatural politics and treaties.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"How can they not care?  Does magic screw up their sense of decency?"  It was a frustrated and sarcastic question he didn't expect Talia to answer.  Of course, she did anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Witches can have decency, Deputy, they just also have a different set of priorities and norms.  Wolves pack bond.  We den up with each other, we depend on each other, we work as a strong family unit even with betas who aren't blood relations because the bond through the bite or by chosen submission supersedes other bonds.  When one wolf needs help we all come together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Witches aren't connected to other witches that way.  They are connected to magic and magic is an energy, not an instinct,” she continued.  “They tend to have a community mindset rather than a familial one with their kind.  Some form covens but it's more like a council overseeing a town.  They care about the individuals in their community but they also place emphasis on self-reliance and autonomy."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So where does that leave this kid?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, we’ve let the elders know he might be a witch.  If he doesn't approach them first they will make contact at some point.  They may still not reach out to us, though.  Witches measure maturity by the competency of the caster.  If this boy has mastered his casting he will basically be an adult in their eyes and afforded that respect unless he reaches out to them for help."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John felt the oncoming twinges of a headache behind his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"He shouldn't be left out there alone."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Talia spread her hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I fully agree.  The most I can do without violating the treaty is ask the pack to keep an eye out for him when they happen to be in town, same as anyone else in Beacon Hills who has seen the alert.  If they spot him they’ll reach out to Shawn."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John sighed and figured that was better than nothing.  "Thank you, I appreciate it."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A week went by with lots of leads called in but none panned out.  John and Hale ran them all down but as one week turned into two and then three they had to focus on other cases popping up.  John kept the case active but there was just no new information.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The vacant, wounded expression in the picture haunted him whether he was in his office or not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was possible Jimmy had left.  Perhaps hitched a ride to the interstate.  John's gut wasn't on board with that theory, though.  Something told him the kid was still somewhere close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn't until the month mark was almost upon him that coven elder Kim McDonough showed up at his office.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"To what do I owe the pleasure?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unlike Talia Hale, Kim McDonough didn't exude the aura of a predator.  On the contrary, she appeared to have just stepped out of a PTA meeting and was on her way to a bake sale.  She had even dropped a platter of brownies and cookies at the front desk.  Every officer in the building showed up like a mess of vultures.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I wanted to reach out about your missing child," she gestured to Jimmy's picture.  "As an act of good faith.  I understand you were dissatisfied with the result of our meeting with Alpha Hale."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yes, you could say that."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Then rest assured, Deputy Stilinski, the missing boy is not currently in danger."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John leaned forward in his chair.  "Do you know where he is?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kim tapped her pink rhinestone sunglasses on her crossed knees and offered a serene smile.  "He is still in town.  He has met with the elders and stated his intentions, which are to remain anonymous and to keep a promise of protection over some current residents.  We have judged him competent in his craft."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So you believe that just because he can pass your bar his status as an endangered minor is moot."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kim waved a manicured hand in dismissal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"He stands as an equal in the community, Deputy.  To violate our creed would be to strike a blow against magic itself.  And magic tends to bite back."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That made no sense to John.  The beginning of another headache twinged in the middle of his forehead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That boy needs a stable environment.  He needs a guardian and therapy and medical assessment.  He is a child.  A child who, by all the evidence, was </span>
  <em>
    <span>tortured</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John gestured to the board full of Jimmy’s pictures.  The ligature marks were deep and discolored.  The black burn on his side made John’s stomach turn no matter how many times he saw it.  Bruises, welts, cuts, and older scars hung in vivid color.  Kim’s eyes flickered across the board.  Her composure flickered.  Just for a second.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"He will have to reach out for those things himself.  However," she said as John prepared to raise his voice.  "While I cannot betray this boy I can offer you a curious story that may or may not be related to him."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her pointed look said the pendulum swung towards the former end.  She pulled out a piece of paper with a number of addresses on them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"In the time since his arrival, we have noticed an uptick in magic at these residences.  The houses and properties have been warded against a variety of entities and harms.  Now, it's not unusual for a witch to safeguard their residence or the residence of someone close to them.  But there is no witch at any of these addresses, and none have connections to the community from what I can surmise."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John read down the list.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Wait.  My house is on this list."  So was the McCall house.  John waved the paper.  "Why would my house be warded?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kim shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I don't have that answer, Deputy.  But I will say that the type of magic laid down is...excessive.  If I was to make an educated guess, I would say whoever wove those enchantments was preparing for war.  Or perhaps has just escaped from one.  Good luck with your investigation."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She showed herself out and left John with ten times more questions than he started the day with.  He dialed Hale’s cell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bring more coffee when you come back.  We’re going on a drive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"She said war?  Are you sure?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That was the word she used, Hale."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were outside John's house inspecting the property and uncovered scratch marks that were too regular to be natural.  John was sure they were meant to be sigils but they ended up more like drunken scribbles.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Do you know what these are supposed to mean?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hale poked at the sigils with a stick.  "I mean, maybe?  This one looks like it's a ward against ill intent and this one could be one against the fae, or maybe it's against tricksters.  They look like some of the things our emissary makes but they're put together...odd."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Odd how?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"In layers.  Deaton works in straight precise lines.  These look braided together, for lack of a better word."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John stared at the wards for a moment before he decided.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Call Deaton, get him over here.  He's not bound by coven rules, is he?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hale shook his head.  "He's the pack emissary.  He's on good terms with the coven but I don't think they consider him part of the community."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Maybe he'll actually give us a straight answer."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The way Hale snorted and coughed to cover it wasn't promising.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deaton turned out to be a veterinarian.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I thought you said he was your emissary."  John leveled an accusing glare at Hale.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Emissary work doesn't keep me occupied all the time," Deaton said as he circled the house.  "This is...odd."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John rolled his eyes.  "So I'm told."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deaton ignored the tone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You were right, Shawn, the wards do appear braided.  It's as if the caster wasn't taught properly.  Or perhaps too fast.  Here, see this grouping?  It binds the signatures of several supernatural creatures to a singular trigger point to activate the barrier ward constructed here."  Deaton ran a gloved finger over the marks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What kind of creatures?" Hale squatted down to get a closer look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"These two are for werewolf and kanima.  This one is interesting though.  It wards against a nogitsune."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What's that?"  John and Hale asked at the same time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's a dark kitsune.  A Japanese fox spirit.  A trickster.  I've only heard ancient stories about them, nothing recent in the past thousand years."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thousand years?  You can be sure there's been no activity associated with a nogitsune in that span?" Hale asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Nogitsune activity tends to make the papers, metaphorically speaking.  They aren't raised lightly and putting them back down is no simple affair.  They usually come with a high body count."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John and Hale exchanged a nervous glance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"The other creatures appear to be for wendigo and--  Well, I'm not sure what to make of these two sigils.  I've never seen them before.  This spellcaster put a great amount of his energy into this making.  I can sense his underlying fear and determination."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"'He'?  You're sure the witch is a man?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deaton pressed his hand to a different section of the siding.  "The energy is distinctly male.  I wouldn't say man, though.  Based on the ward construction and the way it resonates, I would hazard the caster is a younger male."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Maybe, say, a teenager?" John said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Quite possibly.  There is power but it lacks more seasoned experience."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's not going to unravel or explode or anything, though, right?" John asked.  He couldn’t wrap his mind around magic as a concept.  At least werewolves could make a physical change, however impossible that still seemed.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No," Deaton said with a bland smile.  "For all the inexperience the wards are solid.  There are a few gaps here and there in the connecting chains, though.  I would call those blind spots the caster may not realize they have, or don't have the knowledge to fix.  That just means there is a chance the wards could fail if hit hard enough by one or more of these creatures."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Huh."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deaton's knees creaked as he stood from his crouch.  "Whoever your mystery caster is, they seem to like you, Deputy.  They spent a lot of time and energy ensuring your safety."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without a warrant, John couldn't go around to the other houses on the list to check them out for wards but seeing what was on his own had him leaning toward believing it.  So he ran checks on the current residents and spent time at work and at home sifting through the information.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The families all crossed paths at one time or another but the commonalities were all over the place as far as work, social connections, and family ties.  The one thing that did tie them all was their children.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Each family had a child in the same grade as Stiles.  Stiles knew three of them for sure: Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, and Jackson Whitmore.  Stiles waxed poetic over Lydia who, as far as John could tell, never even looked his way.  And Stiles had scuffled with Whitmore the first day he went to school after Claudia's funeral.  The boys had been mortal enemies ever since.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John pulled Stiles's last yearbook and found pictures of the other kids.  Erica Reyes.  Isaac Lahey.  Vernon Boyd.  When asked, Stiles told him of Erica being sick a lot, that Isaac was quiet and liked to be alone, and that Boyd was sort of Erica's friend but they didn't hang out after school because Boyd was always babysitting his sister.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John prodded a little bit, asked if Stiles and Scott ever hung out with them.  Stiles had shrugged and gone off on a Batman tangent.  John let him and listened with half an ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What else connected them?  And why was Jimmy, a missing kid of undetermined origin, so driven to protect them all?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leads on Jimmy dried up and John and Hale were shifted to take on the Shadow case gaining traction.  He kept working Jimmy's case and made rounds to check on the other warded houses in case Jimmy showed up there when he could.  Sometimes he spotted a gangly boy walking around but the face and hair didn't match.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then the Shadow case began to heat up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John listened to the first dispatch recording.  The playful lilt of the caller's voice marked him young.  He was upbeat and cheerful, calling himself a concerned and proactive citizen.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John's good nature soured toward the caller.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"This sounds like it's a game to him," Hale said with a grimace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"He's gonna get someone killed," John growled.  Because that's what overzealous pretenders did.  They couldn't make the cut at the academy or the army or whatever heroic occupation they aspired to and so they decided to play solo.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John had dealt with Barry Puckett enough times since joining the force to have had his fill of stupidity heroics.  If John had his way, Barry would have caught the first bus to state prison.  Unfortunately, Barry was related to the judge's cousin so he was still knocking around while on parole.  It was only a matter of time before Barry shot someone for breathing the wrong way while being the wrong sort of person in his presence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The criminals apprehended by the Shadow furiously described the masked vigilante as a young, cat burglar wannabe dressed in black with a ski mask and some sort of weapon they couldn't see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"There's something not right about that dude," Marcus Delmonico said in his interview.  "The shithead knocked me down with something and I swear it wasn't a taser.  I been tased before and you don't forget that feeling.  I don't have taser marks, either!  But it kicked like a damn sonuvabitch.  And he just, like, melted into the dark.  Like he was made of smoke or something."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Marcus, you know better than to sample your own wares, man, we talked about this," John said as he massaged his forehead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Deputy!  Sir, I am telling you, this dude ain't right.  He's got a really weird vibe."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay.  Why don't you sleep this off and call your lawyer in the morning."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it didn't stop with Marcus.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few days later there was an attempted burglar who they found tied up to a fence with knotted sheets.  He swore up and down someone materialized out of the shadows, raised their hands, and an invisible force kicked them out the front door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The vigilante called it in again.  He made a joke about Catwoman and gave them an address to the burglar's stash in a storage unit that was mysteriously open when they arrived.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It escalated from there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John stared at the corkboard and swirled the cold coffee around in his mug.  A blacked out profile hung at the top with</span>
  <em>
    <span> The Shadow</span>
  </em>
  <span> scrawled above it.  Beneath the sheet were sticky notes, pictures, and info about a dozen confirmed vigilante sightings and targets spread out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"He's got a hard on for Marcus's crew," Hale pointed out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's like he's trying to take down the entire fucking ring by himself," John groused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The vigilante - John refused to call him the Shadow, Christ, what a stupid name - was not the average Barry Puckett.  Whoever it was, they knew how to work a case.  John was-- he would not say impressed.  He was furious.  He was irate.  He was going to read this punk a riot act when he finally caught up with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the punk did good detective work.  John scowled into his coffee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Focus on the drug ring.  Let’s get some feelers out.  If we can catch the remaining connections we’ll be able to get close to this asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mercer was saying we should give the Shadow a medal.”  Hale twirled his pen around his fingers, bored and ready for some kind of action.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mercer goes hunting Bigfoot on the weekends.  We’re not taking any of his suggestions seriously.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John knew with confidence that Bigfoot, at least, was a myth.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not the bad guy, here, just for the record!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John raced after the flailing vigilante.  He couldn’t even run in a straight line, limbs jerking him around like a fish on a hook but he turned the corner and--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Son of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>goddamn</span>
  </em>
  <span> bitch!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John scanned the crowd exiting the Sinema club and seethed with annoyance.  The little shit was nowhere to be seen, just slipped John’s grasp like he was greased with butter.  Drunk and tipsy couples clung to each other, weaving around towards their rides.  No one appeared evasive or out of place in the crowd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hale had the gall to laugh at him when he returned empty-handed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe you ought to hit the treadmill a bit more often.”  The cheeky bastard grinned as they hauled the bald drug supplier to his feet and guided him to the cruiser.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will make you walk back to the station, Hale, see if I don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles found him downstairs the morning after the carjacker incident.  It was early, about five-thirty or so.  John couldn’t shake the jitters or the feeling he was missing a puzzle piece.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John looked up from the vigilante’s case file and blinked in the low light.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, kiddo.  What are you doing up so early?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles wandered over, still half asleep, and sat in the chair next to him.  John reached over and ran his hand over his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dunno.  Just woke up.  Whatcha doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trying to figure out a case.  It’s bugging me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that the Shadow?” Stiles found the still frame from the security camera they’d been lucky enough to pull.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you know about it?”  If Stiles was listening in on John’s conversations again he’d have to invest in soundproofing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard about him at school.  One of the substitutes was talking about how the Shadow took down a guy who tried to rob some store her cousin worked at.  She said the Shadow caught the robber outside and made him take everything back in and apologize.  She said the robber almost peed himself because he couldn’t apologize fast enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John frowned and flipped through the files.  Ah.  The corner store clerk, Carlos Sanchez, relayed the same information in his report.  The vigilante had crab walked the robber back in and held the back of his shirt like some stern parent correcting their child’s behavior.  John never would have believed it if the security film hadn't backed him up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is he a superhero, Dad?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John sighed.  “No, Stiles.  He’s just a guy in a mask who is going to get himself hurt if he keeps this up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles turned wide eyes on John.  “Are you trying to catch him to put him in jail?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Stiles.  He’s a danger to everyone around him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles frowned.  “But he’s catching bad guys.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And he doesn’t have a badge.  Or backup or the proper authority.  He’s been incredibly lucky so far but one day he won’t be.  He’ll get hurt.  Or he’ll get someone else hurt.  The rules aren’t fun all the time but they exist to keep us safe and on the right path.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John thought back to the fight.  Every twist and turn replayed.  John could have sworn the vigilante took a blow meant for John, one that might have been deadly.  It had been dark and everything happened so fast, but he was sure of what he’d seen.  The vigilante had never even flinched.  Had kept talking like he couldn’t bring himself to leave.  Had asked if John was alright in a choked tone like he’d been scared to death of a negative answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve already got that on my conscience, anyway,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the vigilante had said about other people getting hurt.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>But I can still do this.  I can do something good.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been a plea.  A desperate, grasping hope.  It bothered John.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles nodded like he understood, though his forehead was wrinkled in thought.  John gathered up the files and put them away.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on.  How about you help me make some breakfast?  I think we have the stuff for cheesy eggs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eggshells ended up in places they weren’t meant to be and somehow mustard got involved but they filled their bellies and it turned out to be a pretty good morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad!  Dad, you have to go find him!  He’s really hurt and he saved us and the monster had </span>
  <em>
    <span>glowing eyes</span>
  </em>
  <span>--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles, what--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gowling eyes, Dad!  And it growled at us and had these claws, but --”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles, breathe!  What’s going on?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a scuffle and Stiles hissed something at Scott.  John stood frozen in the diner parking lot, cell pressed to his ear, gut churning with the sudden spike of adrenaline.  Hale’s presence was beside him, coiled, waiting for a cue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have to find him, Dad.  He saved us and he got hurt.  I saw the blood and he was headed toward the school.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blood?  Who is bleeding, Stiles, what’s going on?”  John handed the keys of the cruiser to Hale and got into the passenger seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jimmy!  The missing kid you’re looking for!  He was here and he saved us and you have to find him!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s insides went cold as he put the siren on.  “Where are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m at Scott’s house.  But the last we saw Jimmy he was headed for the high school.  We followed him and saw him go in.  He actually broke into the high school,” Stiles said, unable to comprehend why anyone would want to <em>break in</em> to a school instead of out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.  Alright, you boys stay there and wait until I come to get you.  Understand?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Dad, we will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We will, Mr. Stilinski!” Scott added in the background.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John ended the call and Hale sped out of the parking lot.  “Head for the high school.  That was Stiles, he--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Found our missing kid,” Hale finished.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles said he saved them from something with claws and glowing eyes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hale didn’t hesitate.  He put a call through to his mother and she coordinated a search team for the probable werewolf.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought all of you were in control,” John said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I doubt it was one of our wolves.  Mom said some of the northern packs reported an omega sighting in the past week.  They-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me about it later.”  They pulled up to the street a block from the school.  Even from the cruiser, John saw the telltale speckle of blood on concrete.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John held the kid in his arms in the back of the cruiser as Hale sped them to the hospital.  Jimmy was pale, eyes vacant, his head lolled back against John’s chest.  Stupid kid. <em> Idiot</em> boy.  John pressed his hands to the seeping claw marks and promised the boy one hell of a reckoning for his actions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.  Dad, ‘m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jimmy clutched at John’s sleeve, sluggish but frantic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry, I tried.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just hold on for me, alright?  Can you do that?”  John adjusted his grip and pressed harder.  Jimmy gasped.  “You’re going to hold on for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A trauma team was waiting for them and scooped Jimmy out of the cruiser and onto a gurney.  John stood there, a child’s blood on his hands, on his clothes.  John did not pray.  But he braced himself before the universe and with the righteous fury of a father demanded whatever powers that be save Jimmy’s life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>kid</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Melissa was there when they allowed John back to check on Jimmy, some hours later.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Is this the one that saved our boys?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John nodded.  "How is he?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Melissa looked over his chart.  "Better than he should be, considering.  He lost a lot of blood and these claw marks just missed his liver and kidney somehow.  Did he really take on a werewolf with nothing but a knife?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John ran a hand through his hair and sighed.  "That's what Scott and Stiles said.  One of the Hales found the knife in the woods.  Said it had some witchcraft on it but not enough to really deter a werewolf."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They'd found the werewolf, too.  John got the feeling they weren't giving him all the details, but Talia had called personally to assure him the omega had been dealt with and wouldn't be a danger to the community anymore.  John probably should have cared more but couldn’t muster the energy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Melissa shook her head and gazed down on the unconscious boy with worried awe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, it's a good thing you got him here when you did.  If this wound didn't get him the one on his arm would have."  She turned Jimmy's arm over and lifted it for John to view.  "It's recent, within the past few days.  An infection has already taken root so they had to open it up and clean it out."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John came around the bed for a closer look.  It was the right angle.  Right placement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Son of a bitch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"John?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He let out a sharp exhale.  "Nothing.  I think I just put some puzzle pieces together."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This damn kid.  John didn't even know where to start.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jimmy made a pained noise and thrashed a bit.  Melissa put a hand on his forehead and shushed him.  "It's okay, sweetie.  Calm down."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jimmy mumbled something that may have been</span>
  <em>
    <span> mom</span>
  </em>
  <span> and slipped back under.  He was too damn small against the hospital bed, his skin still deathly pale.  But he was fighting.  He was surviving.  If John took anything from the damage he could see it was that Jimmy didn't know how to quit, not even when the odds were stacked against him.  Not even when it would be wise to stop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Melissa continued to smooth Jimmy's hair back with soft motions. "Have you talked to the Hale's about what to do with him when he's released?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"We can't allow him to enter the regular system.  Odds are he'd just run away or they'd stick him in a psych ward.  Talia said she could make some arrangements but we agreed to wait until he wakes up.  I want to talk to him first.  I promised I'd help him any way I could."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John didn't know what that would entail yet.  Melissa gave him a knowing look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Count me in on that.  Whatever he needs.  He saved our boys."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John squeezed her hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I have a feeling I'll need to get good and drunk one night after that talk.  If I can get his full story out of him."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Melissa squeezed back.  "I'll book a babysitter and bring the whiskey."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John's head and heart swam with grief for this boy, for his</span>
  <em>
    <span> son</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  His son from another world, apparently.  It was hard to wrap his mind around.  The story was horrific, fantastical, but Jimmy-- no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stiles</span>
  </em>
  <span>-- knew details he couldn't have known otherwise.  Like the college injury to John's elbow.  Now that John looked closer he wasn't sure how he had missed the obvious.  The moles sprinkled across his face were identical.  So was the slope of his nose and the way he held himself when he was bracing for pain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was Stiles.  Not the Stiles he'd raised but his all the same.  And he was so damn scared John wouldn't believe him Stiles drove himself to live in a mouse infested building that should have been</span>
  <em>
    <span> condemned</span>
  </em>
  <span>, surviving on instant ramen and tinned soups, crafting magic and going after common criminals to keep John and his younger self safe.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John was reluctantly impressed with the crime board.  Still horrified and against Stiles continuing his very well laid out investigations, but impressed.  Even proud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John also realized that Stiles never would have come in if not for the omega.  Would have bled out alone in that damn warehouse loft if he'd have made it in his condition.  No one would have known for months.  Years.  John shut that line of thinking down.  Stiles was right there, in front of him and throwing John sideways glances as though he expected the whole thing to fall apart under his feet, waiting for the other shoe to drop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You already have a son who needs you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John's heart continued to break and fracture.  Stiles thought so little of himself.  Looked upon himself as unworthy, as useless unless he was destroying himself to right every perceived mistake he laid on his own doorstep.  John's heart wept for Stiles but it was still more than capable of loving this Stiles as well.  It was such a Stiles thing to worry about.  Like a parent's love was finite.  As if it were incapable of growth and expansion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John would disabuse him of that notion even if it took the rest of his life, along with all the other misconceptions Stiles was operating under, like reasonable assumption of responsibility or acceptable responses to personal safety.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was gonna get Stiles therapy.  So much therapy.</span>
  <em>
    <span>  All</span>
  </em>
  <span> the damn therapy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John would get with Talia.  Surely there was a supernatural therapist out there who was qualified for someone like Stiles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next step really wasn't anything to think about.  Stiles would come home with John and there he would stay.  He would have a room and space and love and food and all the care and protection John could provide.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John took a moment to breathe while younger Stiles took his older self upstairs to get settled in.  He let his younger Stiles have more than five minutes to talk with his other-self.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"He's home now," John whispered to the empty living room, envisioning his own other world self.  "I will keep him safe, you have my word."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John let himself grieve.  For the John Stilinski who, in his dying moments, sent his son hurtling off into the unknown in the desperate hope he would land somewhere safe.  For the friends who had fallen behind them both.  The children who, like Stiles, had been forced to grow up and fight a damn war before they got a chance to live and discover all the pieces of themselves still waiting to unfold.  He grieved for Stiles, who shouldered all the burden of memory and remorse and blame.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then John lifted his head, blew his nose, and packed the grief away.  There would be time later to unpack it again.  To sort through it with careful fingers, examine the pieces, and understand them.  Melissa and her offer of whiskey.  A private meeting with Talia Hale.  Somewhere surrounded by competent adults who could help him construct a plan forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would not let Stiles continue to suffer under his burden.  John would take it a bit at a time as Stiles allowed, as John proved to him that he was wanted, needed, welcomed, and loved.  He doubted Stiles would give up everything, though.  Stilinski's tended to hoard their guilt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps it was time to break that habit by example.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When his younger Stiles came back down to do his homework John instead gathered him up and held him in his lap.  Stiles squirmed, grumbling he was too old for that, but John held on until he got with the program.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm okay, Dad.  He's the one that's hurt."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You nearly were, too, kiddo.  Indulge me, okay?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles sighed.  "Okay."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John kissed his temple.  "How are you doing with all of this?  A lot has changed in the past few days."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles fiddled with the button on his shirt sleeve.  "Okay, I guess.  It's weird. I was scared."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"In the woods?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, when I figured it out.  I thought...  I thought he was my future."  Stiles sniffled and looked away.  "I didn't want that to be my future."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John squeezed Stiles a little tighter and closed his eyes.  Deep down John was relieved as well.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"But he's not so, that's fine.  He's going to be staying, right?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah.  He's ours, no matter what world or time he came from."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sat in silence for a few minutes, Stiles finally content to lean into the hug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"We're not the same," Stiles said with a furtive aborted glance at John.  "I mean, we’re not the same person.  Just similar.  Not like copies."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No," John agreed.  "You are each your own people.  Are you worried I'll forget?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles huffed.  "Kinda."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, Stiles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Believe me, kiddo, I'm not going to forget who you are.  And I'm not abandoning you either, okay?  I already went over this with him."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What do you mean?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"He was so afraid to come here when he first arrived.  He didn't want you to think he was stealing me."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh."  Stiles bit his lip.  "What happened to his dad?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John rubbed circles into Stiles's back and fought another wave of tears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"His dad died trying to rescue him.  The last thing his dad did was send him here."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So you could take care of him?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles rested his head on John’s shoulder and they breathed together for a bit.  Both thinking, absorbing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay," Stiles said it with a decisive nod.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles wiped at his face, determined.  "Yeah.  I'm okay with this."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Do you mind helping me with him?  You know yourself pretty well."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles sat up and the sadness began to slip away.  "I can do that."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John sensed the wheels already turning out ten different ideas in his son's head.  He chuckled and finally let Stiles out of the hug.  He didn't immediately leave.  Stiles fidgeted and gave him a sly look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Since we're </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind of</span>
  </em>
  <span> the same can I start learning magic, too?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John groaned internally.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"We'll discuss that when you're older."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"</span>
    <span>Daaaad</span>
    <span>!"</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John pulled Mr. Lahey over on Peach Street a few days after New Year's Eve.  He gripped the wheel, white-knuckled, as John sauntered up to his window.  "Deputy."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Afternoon, Mr. Lahey."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What seems to be the problem?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John leaned one arm on the roof and rested his other hand on the open window.  He kept on a pleasant smile and a light, conversational tone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I just want to make sure we're on the same page on the subject of children.  Specifically how they're treated by the adults caring for them."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lahey's shoulder scrunched up to his ears.  He, wisely, said nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm not telling you what to do, mind you.  But I strongly suggest that you put your son's best interests ahead of yours.  Seems like he's doing pretty well with his Aunt Tracy.  She said his grades are improving.  I guess that's bound to happen when you aren't afraid of getting slapped around any given night.  Or thrown in a freezer."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lahey clenched his jaw.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"As I said, I can't tell you what to do.  But I hope you'll take my suggestion to heart.  Also, you're never going to approach my kid again.  If I find out you're within fifty feet of him I will make you disappear.  Permanently."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sweat beaded around Lahey's temple.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Are you threatening me, Deputy?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yes, I am.  I'm so glad we understand each other."  John widened his grin and stared down Lahey with cold eyes.  He patted the top of the roof.  "You drive safe now."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back in the cruiser, John waited until Lahey was on his way before he slipped back out onto the road.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Remind me to never get on your vicious side, Stilinski.  I felt the chill from back here," Hale said with approval.  "You reminded me of my mom."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'll take that as a compliment."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Good, because it is."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John arrived home to find both his boys sacked out on the couch.  The coffee table appeared to be the victim of a drive-by craft store binge with sewing supplies strewn among snack wrappers and empty drinking cups.  John elected willful ignorance, for now, it didn't seem dire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a moment to appreciate the sight before him.  His kids were alive.  They were safe and content, one on the road to recovery and the other healthy as a horse.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A lot of things were going to change in the coming days.  Not all would be smooth sailing.  But they would get through it and keep moving forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When John returned to his office the next day he took down all of Stiles's photos and case information from the board and filed it under his solved folder in the filing cabinet below his desk.  The drawer locked with a satisfying click.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Love the new picture, Stilinski," the sheriff said on his way by.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thanks, Dan."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John adjusted the frame along with the others and his chest swelled with a sea of emotions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both his boys grinned at the camera, the younger one as wide as his mouth would go and the older one more reserved but pink in the face and his eyes alight with guarded joy.  Red Santa hats perched on their heads and they squished together, shoulder to shoulder on the couch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The world didn't stop for anyone.  This, John knew.  It kept on spinning around beneath the stars, heedless of the people who called it home.  The Stilinski family would continue spinning with it, though.  They were tenacious that way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>